“Sorry,” she said, regarding him with a wince. “Are you okay?”
“Nothing an ice pack won’t cure,” he said, then stopped her when she would have reached into the freezer for one. “I’m kidding. I’m fine.” His eyes lit up. “And I see roasted chicken in there. Can we have that?”
“We had chicken for lunch.”
“Doesn’t matter. There’s nothing better than cold chicken with a glass of wine. I’m assuming you can come up with a bottle of pinot grigio or a sauvignon blanc. I’ve heard the wine cellar here is second to none.”
“Cold chicken and wine, it is,” she said. “I’ll grab the chicken. You check out the wines.” She gestured toward the oversize wine cooler they’d had installed just a few weeks earlier. It was stocked with some excellent California labels, as well as several local wines and even a few more expensive French vintages. Will whistled as he scanned the labels. “Excellent selection.”
“Gail knows what she’s doing. I don’t,” Jess said, digging through a drawer for a corkscrew. “Pick whatever you want.”
She found a few more things for their meal—some cut veggies, a wedge of cheese, a cluster of chilled red grapes and a loaf of French bread baked earlier in the day. The tray was loaded down when she’d finished.
Will shook his head at the sight of it. “I thought we were having a simple snack.”
“This was simple,” Jess said. “Did you see me turn on a single burner on the stove? You take the tray. I’ll take the wine and glasses.”
The sun was starting to dip in the west when they sat down at one of the picnic tables scattered around the inn’s sweeping lawn. Will poured the wine, then held up his glass.
“To simple meals with good friends,” he said quietly.
There wasn’t anything even remotely suggestive in his words, no hint of innuendo that he wanted something more. And yet Jess thought she could read the desire in his eyes and couldn’t help wondering if it was reflected in her own.
The thought of it was so terrifying, she felt she had to say something. “Will?”
He nodded, his gaze never leaving her face.
“You know this…” She gestured to their meal, which had yet to be touched. “It’s not a date. We should probably be clear on that.”
He frowned slightly. “How would you describe it?”
“Just a snack, you know, to thank you for helping out earlier.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. “But since we’re being clear, let me tell you that I do not intend to get caught up in one of those ridiculous not-dating situations that Susie and Mack have found themselves in. Since this was your idea, you can call this whatever you want tonight.” He leveled a look into her eyes. “But the next time you and I share a meal—if we ever share another meal—it will be a date.”
Jess trembled at the intensity in his voice and in his eyes. She was even more shaken when he stood up, dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and announced he had to go.
“But—”
“You stay out here and enjoy watching the moon come up,” he said, cutting off her protest. “It’s going to be a full one tonight.”
He was gone before she could ask him to stay. She told herself it was just as well. With the conflicted feelings she was suddenly having about him, sitting here with him watching the rise of a full moon might be a little too romantic. Who knew what crazy things she might be tempted to do.
7
Connie had been on three blind dates so far, each one more depressing than the one before. It wasn’t that the men weren’t nice. They just weren’t Thomas O’Brien. They lacked his maturity, his passion for his work preserving the Chesapeake Bay, his blue eyes that sparkled with laughter when they shared a joke.
The way she was pining for the man was pitiful. And it had only gotten worse since they’d gone to dinner a couple of weeks ago.
As innocent as that dinner had been—they hadn’t even shared a hug, much less a kiss—she’d been replaying every second of it in her head ever since. Those three intellectually stimulating hours had spoiled her for everyone else. Nor had she laughed that hard in years. Thomas had a wonderfully self-deprecating way of telling stories on himself and everyone in the O’Brien family.
She was sitting in her office at her brother’s nursery, trying to work up some enthusiasm for calling a customer to explain that it wasn’t possible to plant palm trees on the Maryland shore and expect them to live through the winter, when Jess wandered in.
“You look as down as I’m feeling,” Jess commented, lifting a chair over piles of seed catalogues in the cramped room and sitting down. “What’s on your mind?”
Since just the thought of discussing her feelings for Thomas with an O’Brien made her cringe, Connie opted for an evasion. “I’m just overloaded with work.”
Jess gave her a knowing look. “You sure it doesn’t have anything to do with my uncle?”
Connie feigned shock, hoping she sounded convincing. “You mean Thomas? Why would my mood have anything to do with him?”
“I could have meant Jeff,” Jess teased. “That you jumped to the conclusion I was talking about Thomas is very telling.”
“Oh, please,” Connie said. “What kind of issues could Jeff and I possibly have?”
“Landscaping issues,” Jess improvised. “He does manage a lot of properties around town.”
Connie wished she’d seized on that possibility a lot sooner. “I don’t have issues with Jeff, or Thomas, for that matter. I don’t know where you got such a crazy idea.”
“Because from all the reports I’ve been hearing, sparks fly whenever the two of you are in the same space,” Jess said.
Connie sighed. “You’ve been talking to Connor.”
Jess grinned. “And Kevin. I believe Heather’s also mentioned a time or two the way your face lights up when you
